


with naught but a punch

by troubadore



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore
Summary: Geralt hadn't believed in the horseshit about soulmates until he punched a bard in the gut.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 69
Kudos: 643





	with naught but a punch

**Author's Note:**

> my GOD these bitches gay
> 
> the concept of this soulmate au is that once you come into physical contact with your soulmate you have to be physically touching at all times while the bond settles in place or you end up in excruciating pain R I P
> 
> now with a translation in russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9688006)!

Geralt hadn't believed in the horseshit about soulmates until he punched a bard in the gut. 

People talked about the  _ pull _ you feel, guiding you to the other half of your soul, and how it eases when you first touch them, and how the pain of being separated from them is so intense that you physically can't be separated for anywhere up to two weeks while the bond settles in place. It's supposed to promote intimacy and trust, or something like that. 

Horseshit, as he said. No pain is that bad. And soulmates don't exist. 

Except the pain lancing up his arm as he pulls back from the punch, lighting up his nerves like he's being electrocuted and stabbed with a hundred swords coated in poison simultaneously while also being burned alive, and the way Jaskier—the bard—keens in agony, instinctively reaching for Geralt despite the way he's curled in on himself, very much says otherwise. 

He falls to his knees as the pain reaches a sudden spike, and then Jaskier is crawling into his lap and Geralt is hauling him closer without thinking, burying his face in his neck and breathing his scent in deeply, finding notes of lavender and musk that are soothing and calming. Jaskier wraps his arms around him, fingers tangling in his hair, and then the pain is just...gone, as sudden as it appeared. 

In his chest, something that's always been restless, always urging him to move, that's kept him going from place to place, never still, finally settles. Something warm starts to take its place, like a soft caress over the very deepest, most vulnerable part of him—

Like a bond slotting into place. 

_ Fuck.  _

"Fuck," he breathes against smooth skin, and he feels the laugh that rolls through Jaskier in his own chest. 

"Well," Jaskier says, relaxing against him, "this is certainly unexpected. But quite a pleasant surprise, to boot! Always wondered if I'd meet my soulmate." 

His lips brush against Geralt's temple and he begins playing with Geralt's hair, and fuck it all, but it's  _ nice.  _

"Soulmates don't exist," Geralt insists, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. 

He keeps his nose buried in Jaskier's neck, contrary to his statement. 

Jaskier snorts. He's so  _ warm.  _ So soft. "I hate to burst your grumpy, brooding bubble, but I think this is solid proof in their favor." 

He goes to pull back, possibly to stand, possibly just to look Geralt in the eye, but the idea of being apart from him is so viscerally repulsive that Geralt instinctively growls and pulls him tighter to his chest, unwilling to let go.  _ Mine,  _ something in him says. 

_ What the fuck.  _

It draws a breathless huff of laughter from Jaskier, who simply goes back to playing with Geralt's hair. He isn't the slightest bit put out by the situation, which makes Geralt feel even more put out. 

"How amusing," he chuckles. 

"How  _ annoying,"  _ Geralt corrects, snapping the word like it's done him a personal offense. He doesn't ease his hold on Jaskier, though. "I can't do my job like this." 

Jaskier hums thoughtfully, and his voice really is nice, smooth and light. His lyrics leave a little to be desired, but Geralt thinks with a bit of practice and some actual knowledge and inspiration, he won't do half bad at the whole wandering minstrel gig. 

Which...is why he's following Geralt in the first place. For inspiration for his songs. Like he was being pulled to Geralt, drawn to him. 

Like it's Destiny. 

Shit. 

"It  _ is  _ a bit of an inconvenience, isn't it," Jaskier muses. "The universe didn't quite think this one through, hm?" 

"A bit," Geralt deadpans, and finally,  _ finally,  _ pulls away enough to look Jaskier in the eye. 

They tense at the same time as he moves, waiting for another surge of nearly debilitating pain, but there's only a soft pulse, a dull throb that goes away again once it's obvious they're not actually separating. Geralt looks up into Jaskier's face, his bright blue eyes, and Jaskier beams at him. 

He  _ is  _ pretty. Geralt will give him that. 

"So," Jaskier says, still grinning, "how about that devil, then? I still have two hands. Maybe not to grab it by the horns, but I can hold onto you while you hack at it with one of those big swords of yours, yeah?" 

"You're going to be in the way," Geralt says, but it sounds way too resigned for his liking. He's  _ giving in  _ and he hates it. 

"A specialty of mine!" Jaskier says brightly. "I'm also a great nuisance and a pain in the ass." 

Geralt grimaces. "I can tell." 

They don't move right away, still sitting on the ground with Jaskier in his lap, Geralt's hands on his waist. They  _ should  _ move, should continue into Dol Blathanna to figure out what's actually been stealing the grain from the people of Posada, but he doesn't  _ want  _ to. A feeling of  _ comfort  _ and  _ safety  _ has wrapped itself around them like a warm blanket, soft and inviting, and it's been so long since Geralt's felt a soft touch that he didn't have to pay for beforehand. 

It's  _ nice  _ and he craves it, despite everything. 

They can't just keep sitting in the road, though, so eventually Geralt grunts and begins the needlessly harrowing process of getting them upright without causing unnecessary pain. Jaskier takes hold of his hands, pulling his gloves off so that they keep skin to skin contact, and then laces their fingers together and uses that hold to pull Geralt up as he stands. Throbs of pain lance through his limbs, but it's a dull ache like overworked muscles in comparison to the excruciating shocks of earlier. Even the mutations hadn't been that bad, and Geralt had always thought nothing would compare to that. 

Jaskier's face is twisted with a grimace as he bears his own share of pain, body tense, and as soon as he's on his feet again, Geralt pulls him in, wrapping him in his arms. Jaskier relaxes against him immediately, sighing in content. It puts Geralt at ease, too, and he hates it. 

He hates that he doesn't actually hate it. 

He doesn't  _ want  _ a soulmate. He doesn't  _ need  _ a soulmate. This is absolutely pointless. Jaskier is going to get hurt because he physically can't be separated from Geralt, because Destiny decided it'd be funny to give a witcher a soulmate. 

Jaskier makes a happy little hum and presses closer to him. 

But gods, is it nice to be wanted for once. 

_ This is going to be a problem,  _ he thinks, but he buries his nose in Jaskier's hair anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/troubadorer) for more geraskier yelling~!


End file.
